Page 19 of The Last Warrior

Fortunately for him, the memory of her sharp tongue countered the feeling of sympathy, and he held himself back.

For the moment, he would stay where he was.

So she danced, and she danced. She cried as she swayed, and her sobs seemed to wrack his soul. How long he stood there, he could never be certain. Entranced by her, he watched her, wishing he might make contact with her, yet knowing he should not.

It wasn’t until she pulled back her hair, fixing it away from her face, when she walked toward the music box, where she picked it up and shut its lid. The music faded from the room.

But not so the magic.

He swallowed hard. Either he should leave or announce himself. To continue to spy on her was no longer an action he could justify.

He might have stepped forward then, except he recalled again their heated exchange back in England. Most likely he was not the right person to give her aid. He might have walked away, and in fact had turned to do so, but then he heard another of her heart-wrenching sobs. It was these, her sobs, which decided him. He couldn’t go. It was simply not in him to do so.

Breathing in deeply, he stepped from around the divider and cleared his throat.

At the sound, she spun toward him. Wide red eyes stared at him for a moment, clashed with his and then suddenly there was recognition in her gaze. “You! What are you doing here?”

“I am honored you remember me, and I am here because⁠—”

“How long have you been here?” she interrupted.

“Long enough.”

She lifted her chin as if to say she didn’t care he had seen her in a weak moment. She wiped her eyes. “Why are you here?”

“I…” What could he say to explain his presence and his reluctance to make himself known? “I…heard the music, and I feared something might be wrong with the Song Bird. I thought to investigate.”

“The Song Bird?”

“The woman the white-eyes call Irena.”

“Oh, Irena.” She laughed grimly. “You have business with Irena, then?”

“I do sometimes.”

“Yes, well, she was here earlier, but she has gone seeking a young warrior, I’m afraid.”

He lifted his chin. “It may be I am the one she seeks.”

Shadows, cast from the soft, single light in the room, crossed over her face, lending her a fairy-like appeal, except for her study of him, which was mutinous. “It’s funny how these things happen, is it not?”

“Funny?”

“I thought to never see you after you stumbled into me there in England. And yet here you are. Here I am.”

“Hau, here we are.” He paused. “And we are alone together. It is enough to ruin your reputation yet again.” He cast her a lopsided grin. “I fear now you truly have no choice but to accept my proposal of marriage, if only for your own sake.”

“Marry you?” She frowned, then shook her head and turned away from him, presenting him with her profile. “I… Thank you for coming here today.” She stared toward the floor. “I will tell Irena you were here.” There was a tremble in her voice.

He swallowed hard. It was not in his heart’s nature to intrude on another’s privacy, yet he would give comfort if he could. “Jesting aside, is there anything I can do for you? Is there something you need I can supply?”

“You mean besides a chance at another life? Oh, please…”

He watched her profile as a tear escaped its bounds and fell down a beautiful cheek. As he surveyed her, it came to him what his first observation of her had missed. Her belly was bigger than it had been the last time he had seen her. The difference was slight, yet…

He took a step forward. “You are with child,” he said simply. “I will help you if I can.”

Her sob was soul-wrenching, yet strained. Though she said nothing to affirm his words, the tears now coursed freely over her face.